Author's Notes: I killed my best story for you people! *Ahem*

Hi. I'm Kaleb. About two years ago, I set out to write the greatest Walking Dead fanfic ever! I failed. I don't want to talk about it. There were some inappropriate and unnecessary scenes, pairings, etc. in the story. But I have grown as a person and as a writer and now want to write the greatest Walking Dead fanfic ever! I hope my fans will find the changes I make to be worthy of reading and I hope my critics give me another chance. So, without further delay, here is my story: 239 Days. The story is set in the eight months between Seasons 2 and 3.

A Walking Dead Fanfic: 239 Days On The Road

Part I: The Hunting Grounds

Day 1

A Long Winter

Last week had been hell.

Walkers had invaded Hershel Greene's farm, forcing the rag-tag group of survivors around whom our story revolves into their vehicles and out onto the road. Sophia was dead. Shane was dead. Andrea was long gone - missing and probably dead. That left only ten. Ten survivors, up against an army of the undead - and who knows what else. In the past, this group had succumbed to the natural laws of anarchy. With no civilization to guide them, no government to rule them, no laws to bind them, the group had made decisions in a democratic sort of way. On the Greene farm, democracy gave way to mob rule and as a result, five good people had died. Five friends. Five family members. Five survivors, lost in the war against the Walkers.

No more.

Last week, Rick Grimes laid down the law. From now on, he would be running the show. He had made the decision that the group was going to head south, towards Fort Benning. Anyone who had a problem with Rick Grimes could leave, try to survive on their own. As if that was possible in today's world.

This week was quiet. The days were filled with quiet car rides, gas station stops. Find what supplies you can, fill up the car with gas, and get back in the car and ride on.

Our story begins on one such day. The group was traveling in their four-vehicle-caravan, as they typically did during the day (and sometimes at night as well), still well on their way towards Fort Benning. Normally, getting from Atlanta to Fort Benning would have been a simple trip of about two hours. With all the walkers, though, taking the interstate would be suicide. So, for days now, they'd been traveling the back roads, stopping in every little town to rest up for a few days. It couldn't be avoided with a pregnant woman in the group.

It was December – the 21st, according to Glenn, who had taken over such responsibilities since the very unfortunate death of Dale. On this particular day, as the group ran along some abandoned back country road, T-Dog led the caravan, driving his newly acquired Dodge Ram. Rick sat shotgun, his eyes peeled on the road ahead. Occasionally, he would speak, but usually only to give T-Dog some sort of direction. Slow down, turn here, stop at the gas station. Those were the words exchanged in this vehicle, which suited both men just fine. Carl, on the other hand, miserably spent his time stretched out in the back seat of the truck, waiting for something interesting to happen, careful to keep his mouth shut.

Behind T-Dog, there was the Chevy Suburban, which Hershel had been entrusted by Rick to drive. Lori, Beth, and Carol were Hershel's passengers. Lori and Carol mostly talked to themselves, and despite Hershel's attempts to communicate with his daughter, Beth didn't really feel like speaking most of the time, so she kept her eyes on the road, dreaming of a world long gone. Dreaming of Jimmy and her mother and the life she had been given, only to have had it taken away by the cruelty of the world they now lived in. Hershel had finally supplied her with a notebook and a pen which he'd found at the last stop, and so she now had an outlet for her inner-thoughts, and spent much of her time drawing as well.

Daryl followed beside Hershel, not exactly behind, just in case he needed to take the lead with his rather speedy motorcycle. Occasionally, Rick would motion for Daryl to drive ahead and scout out a road nearby or check for Walkers around a curve. Daryl could not afford to zone out or to ride in a car and gossip. Rick had started to trust Daryl. After all, Daryl was sort of the knight of the group. He was arguably among the best fighters present and he had proved his usefulness. His importance could not be understated.

Glenn had the wheel of the Hyundai, firmly behind the rest of the crowd, and he was riding along with Maggie. Maggie, the woman he found himself falling in love with. Out of all the vehicles in this caravan, their vehicle represented hope. It represented a possible future, and Glenn knew that had to mean something. He didn't know what it meant exactly. But he knew it meant something. And he knew that Maggie was the only bright part of his day, the only sunshine on this dark, winter day.

Glenn and Maggie were holding hands as he drove along calmly, his eyes peeled on the road ahead.

Glenn's eyes squinted a bit as he glanced up into the distance.

"Is that a car?" he asked Maggie quietly.

"I... I think so."

It was hard to see from the rear of the group.

"I swore I just saw it move."

"I think you're seeing things," Maggie countered playfully. "Too much time in the sun."

"Hah!" Glenn replied, "I wish we could get some time in the sun."

Glenn's eyes were still fixed on the parked car up ahead, taking up one lane, parked horizontally across the lane. They were quickly getting closer to the car, and Glenn realized that Daryl needed to get over and take up the space between his vehicle and Hershel's. Lightly tapping his breaks, he let Daryl slide in front of him as they kept getting closer.

"I think it's an Acura," Glenn theorized.

"I always wanted an Acura," Maggie replied.

"I drove one back in my pizza delivering days."

A beat.

"Glenn," Maggie demanded, urgency in her voice.

"What's wrong?"

"I swear I just saw someone move in that car."

"Now you're the one being ridiculous."

"No, s-"

SCREEEEECCHHHH

As the Dodge Ram and the Chevy road past the apparently abandoned car, it revved to life, it's driver becoming painfully visible as the man inside slid up from the seat he'd been leaning back in. The Acura driver floored the gas, and an alarmed Hershel barely got by safely as the Acura slid into the incoming caravan. Daryl was not so fortunate. Glenn watched, horrified, as Daryl's body was thrown into the air as it impacted with the Acura.

Slamming onto the breaks, Glenn jerked the wheel to the left. As the Hyundai and the road parted, Glenn noticed too late that the country road had been on a fairly steep hill. The Hyundai quickly gained traction, rolling down the steep hill off the side of the road, and Glenn panicked, quickly grabbing Maggie's hand. This hill was far too steep and Glenn prayed that the car would not tip over. Somehow, it didn't, and as the car got to the bottom of the hill, Glenn tried his best to break as quickly as possible to avoid hitting the tall trees that formed the beginnings of a forest, just off the side of the road.

The car stopped.

...

Silence.

"Are you okay?" Glenn asked calmly.

"Somehow," Maggie replied, breathing out deeply. After taking a moment to catch their breaths, they stepped out of the Hyundai.

They were in the woods, just a few feet in. Tall pine and oak trees towered above them, their overgrown limbs forming a sort of dark canopy over their heads. The cold ground below them was littered with the dead leaves that Georgia forests so often had within them. Walking to the tree-line, Glenn examined the area closely. There was maybe a yard of space between the beginning of the woods and the steep hill which the road above was on. Thick, tall grass littered this space, and Glenn could feel the un-kept patch of un-forested land brushing against his pant legs. The hill they'd come down was massive, and it looked as if they'd come down at an almost 90 degree angle.

From the road above, there came yelling. Rick's yelling.

"GLENN! MAGGIE!"

"We're down here!" Glenn replied.

Looking up, they saw Rick at the top of the hill, still on the road above, peering down at the two. Carl stood next to him, silently watching.

"Is anybody hurt?" Rick asked.

"We're fine," Glenn replied, "Just spooked."

Without another word, Rick turned to take care of more urgent business. Carl turned to follow his dad.

Carol, Hershel, and Lori were huddled around Daryl, who was still alive (but pretty banged up) and passed out. Beth joined the three, watching quietly, ready to lend a hand if needed, as she had done many times with her dad in the past – of course, most of her dad's patients had been animals. She'd learned a lot from her dad when Carl had gotten shot. She'd thought about being a doctor once, but any thoughts such as that had long ago been disposed of what with recent events.

"He's lucky," Hershel noted, "He decelerated enough before crashing that his injuries shouldn't be too serious. A few broken bones. Probably no internal bleeding. His leg's broken. We're going to have to adjust it, and we better do it now before he comes around."

As Beth rushed to help her father, Carl joined his own father and T-Dog, who, apart from maybe a small concussion, was fine. Smiling as he stepped out of the Ram, he let out a proud, "That foreign shit doesn't stand a chance against my truck," as he helped Rick rip open the Acura door.

Carl watched as his father and T-Dog examined the man inside. A moment later, Rick motioned for Carl to join the two at the driver's door. Glaring inside the incredibly beat up Acura, Carl saw the dead body before him.

"Take a good look, son," Rick insisted, "This is what happens when you're stupid out here on the road."

"What was he doing, Dad?" Carl replied.

"Probably a scavenger. Trying to pick off the weak like a coward," he explained as he grabbed a hold of the body, pulling it out of the car and laying it out on the ground. "Finally met his match."

"Go ahead, Dad," Carl insisted, "Get rid of him."

"No," Rick replied, pulling out his knife, "I want you to do it this time."

Carl hesitated. Looking up at his father with uncertainty, he took the knife, his hands shaking as he contemplated how he could bring himself to do this. He wasn't scared. He knew that he had to protect everyone. Still, when it came time to do something like this, it wasn't exactly easy. He felt his dad's hands grab onto his own, steadying them. With a deep breath, Carl brought the knife down, planting it straight into the forehead of the dead body before him.

"We'll have to sleep here tonight," Rick decided, "There's a town about ten miles north. A group of us can head in tomorrow and get some medical supplies," and then, almost as an afterthought, he finished, "It's going to be a long winter."